Seven Devils
by Silence-Psychikos
Summary: The Angels have fallen. A human and lost Castiel is saved by the staff of the mysterious Arcanum Hospital where its hidden occupants are more of a secret than the building itself. On the other hand, Sam and Dean are trying to recover from the trials, all the while trying to find Castiel as they uncover one of Hell's biggest secrets... Nothing the boys can't handle.
1. Prologue I

"Hello?"

It was raining. And it was dark. And Castiel was alone, cold. He couldn't remember – remember what, exactly? Stars. Falling stars. No, falling _angels_. Angels, his brothers and sisters. Oh, what had he done?

_"Find a wife, make babies, and when you die and your soul comes to heaven, find me and tell me your story."_

Metatron's words echoed in his ears. He had to find Dean. Dean and Sam. But where, where were they? How far was he from his friends, his family?

"Hello, sir?"

_This is it._

_This is what?_

_Team Free Will. One ex-blood junkie, one dropout with 6 bucks to his name, and Mr. Comatose over there. Awesome._

Team Free Will. But what free will now? What could they fight for and where were they? Where was he? Lost, dark, alone and… human. He wasn't an angel anymore, a Seraphiel. He was human, fragile and beautifully human. Why would Metatron do this? Questions. He had too many; and all without answers.

"Sir, can you hear me?"

He finally looks up, unable to ignore the voice distracting him from his thoughts any longer. Blinking, he takes in the stranger's appearance – blonde hair, green eyes, concerned look and a glowing necklace. Wait. Castiel blinks again, tilting his head at the stranger, no, woman. Yes, the necklace is glowing but she isn't wearing it – her brunette friend with a pair of sunglasses, standing behind her with the agitated expression aimed at the phone in her hand, is.

"What…" His voice is hoarse, how long has it been since he's talked? Castiel takes in his surroundings. How long had he been sitting here against the brick wall, in the rain, bathed in streetlight?

The woman stares at him sympathetically and gives him a sad smile, "Let us help you."

"I don't need help." He grunts, turning away from the blonde.

"Clara, let's just go." Castiel finds himself peering over at the dark haired woman, silently questioning her accent – it isn't American, it's somewhat foreign (to be honest it almost sounds like Balthazar's, oh, his dear old _dead_friend Balthazar), it's confusing.

"But you said-"

"I know what I said, but he doesn't want our help." When she peers over her glasses to lock eyes with him, widening slightly at the sight of him, Castiel finds himself surprised. Her left iris is a deep blue bordering on green colour, like sea waters calming after a storm, while the other iris is a burning ember. He almost feels as if he's an angel again, powerful and strong; he could find Sam and Dean within a heartbeat. He wonders how her glance can be so strong; but those mismatched eyes look away and he is feeble and weak.

"I'm not leaving him here," this 'Clara' growls and turns back to him, "Come on, sir."

He finds himself giving in to the arms that help him stand and help walk him to a small _modern_ car (but it's not the black 67' Impala he wants to see). Castiel knows that he shouldn't allow these strangers to help him because Dean said he shouldn't trust strangers but as Clara slips into the driver's seat and the raven haired woman helps him into the back, apologising profusely for her friend's odd behaviour before he closes his eyes and places his head on her shoulder, rendering her silent until the car starts driving, he can't bring himself to care.

"What's your name?"

"Sir?"

"Hello?!"

"SIR!"

Castiel opens his eyes and blinks until the blonde, Clara comes into focus and in the corner of his eye the dark haired woman's face displays some kind of hidden concern. Should he tell them his name he wonders? What kind of other information could they manage to get out of him if they knew something so simple yet so powerful as his name?

"What's yours?" He manages to muster.

Clara is unimpressed, "I asked you first."

"I asked you second." Castiel retorts, triumph in his bitter eyes.

There is silence until the brunette rolls her eyes and lets out an annoyed sigh.

"Her name is Clara; we work together with many others at a hospital for, well, your kind." Castiel glances up at her from his sunken position, his eyes ask what feels to be a forbidden question – yet, one she answers, "My name is-"

She is interrupted by a car behind them, blasting the horn, to which Clara merely grunts at.

He attempts to sit up in the moving car, his eyes waiting for her answer.

She sighs, glancing at Clara who is watching them from the front seat in the rear view mirror, "You can call me Dri."

Castiel nods and pressed his hand to her wrist, trying, _wishing_ that his angel powers would return and he could see more than this pretty face. When he hears the blonde coo from the front seat he jerks, releasing her wrist as if it burned to touch.

"Keep your eyes on the road." Castiel growls, trying to cover up his falter – but Dri sees through it whereas Clara does not – Dri helps him sit up and he has to bite his lip to keep the tears (tears, what tears, since when could he cry – The angel of the lord, soldier of god?) at bay because he used to say that to Dean with Sam in the passenger seat and he in the back of their old Impala (he misses that car, he now decides).

He wants to cry, but he doesn't he's strong and brave and he can go on, but the calm and soft voice repeat its former question, Clara never took her eyes off the road, "What's your name, sir?"

He looks to Dri and she's staring out the window, but still he takes her hand in his (she's cold, is it cold outside, is it cold in this car? He can't tell anymore) and she doesn't pull away even when he settles into her shoulder, in fact she runs her hand through his hair comfortingly before resuming her glance outside.

"Jimmy. My name is Jimmy Novak." He isn't sure whether he's repeating it for Clara and Dri or more to himself.

(A few moments later, he presses his lips to the shell of Dri's ear and almost like a desperate plea he whispers his name, his real name)

_"Jimmy isn't my real name." His voice low and rumbling, she shivers at his closeness but gives him a knowing look._

_"I know."_

_He doesn't ask her how or why or when but instead he just says his name, "I'm Castiel."_

_This time Dri is the one who squeezes his hand and a sad smile graces her lips, "I know."_

He finds comfort in the two young women and their care for him, and he still can't bring himself to be wary – about them or about anything.

(Not even when he wakes up and he's back sitting against the same brick wall, in the rain, bathed in streetlight though this time with a sense of calmness in his mind.)

But where are they?

_Dean and Sam Winchester, his family._

Where is he?

_Castiel, former angel of the Lord, once warrior of God._

And where is _she_?

The woman with the brown hair, mismatched eyes and the seals of heaven and hell tattooed on her wrists.


	2. Prologue II

David Ridge had never had a fear of the dark or what could reside inside it. He, the older brother, had always comforted his sisters when they feared the dark monsters but he felt he never had a reason to be scared thus, he never was. After all, there were no such things as monsters… at least, not ones that you couldn't kill.

He shivered in the cold night air, shoving his hands into his pockets and wrapped his hands around the gun in his pocket. No, David did not fear the darkness and its monsters… however; shadows were a different thing all together. Wearily, he scanned his surroundings as he crossed the empty road, trying to ignore the flickering lamplight and the sound of footsteps running. Hold on… this caught his attention and his eyes darted to where the footsteps sounded before swallowing slowly as he found there was no-one there but a single shadow.

David could make out the shadow of a woman with her hair tied up, a fedora, a long coat and heels. A woman… did he have any reason to fear a woman, or a shadow of a woman? He wracked his brain for anything before turning pale; he did. The woman slowly approached him and he tightened his grip on the gun in his pocket tightly while his hunting senses kicked in.

David could make out the woman more clearly now; bronze hair, sun-kissed skin – but her face was hidden by the hat upon her head as her silver heels clicked against the pavement, making her way to him.

"Hello, Mr Ridge." Under the hat, her red lips spoke with a crisp, clear British accent.

"Miss.. I didn't think I would get to meet you." He nodded his head and held out his hand; David watched as she shook his hand formally before lifting her head and looking him in the eye. Her eyes were somewhat a dark grey and made him want to run.

"No-one usually does, however I have made an exception." She placed her hands in her pockets, mirroring his stance, "So, what news was so important that you needed to see me in person?"

"Oh, just this." David pulled out the gun and before she could react, shot her in the chest twice.

The woman gasped, clutching her chest as red stained the yellow coat. David smirked proudly before she staggered towards him, grabbing him by the shoulders as she hissed, "One question: why?"

"You were trying to stop us. And no-one tries to stop us, miss." He shrugged, his eyes filling with a blackness that seemed almost too familiar to the woman, "Now I don't know who you are but you're going to die knowing that you were unsuccessful."

She scoffed, rolling her eyes and he could feel her blood soaking his own jacket.

"Any last words?" David announced to the night air - only the traffic lights changed from orange to red in response.

"I really wish you hadn't done that." The woman muttered.

David's face grew white as he looked down into his stomach where the oddly shaped silver blade resided; the light flashed from his eyes as he collapsed to the floor. The woman wore a triumphant look as she pulled the blade from him, stopping when he gripped her wrist.

"I wanna know the name of my killer." David grunted as the woman rolled her eyes; the once grey filled a golden ember when she winked slyly at him and her lips formed a cynical smile.

"I have died a hundred times and many of my murderers withheld their names from me. Think of it as… a simple mercy to free your mind of such a consequence as the name of your killer in the afterlife... especially an afterlife in _purgatory_." She responded cryptically, dropping his own gun at his feet.

"No, wait!" He shouted before gasping in pain; his eyes were closed but he heard her stop, her silence telling him to speak or forever hold his peace.

"You… but you can't be! Y-you're dead!" His lids fluttered opened to find her staring at him, her facing saying the things her mouth wouldn't. Dead is what the world thought and 'dead' shall she stay'.

As the woman – no – _the woman_ turned away, he opened his mouth to protest only to find that he had no voice; still, his eyes followed her as she walked into the darkness, becoming nothing but what he feared, a shadow.

"Farewell, Mister David Ridge." She called out just before she left his line of sight, "I hope we _never _meet again."

As David lay upon the road, amidst his own blood in the darkness he heard voices taunting him. He watched behind his eyelids as the shadows came to life, growing and surrounding him. The seven devils, they called themselves. Seven devils, taking over himself completely; his memories, his soul, his heart – but they left his mind and his eyes for last, so that he could watch as they tore him apart and set him on fire.

These seven devils were supposed to be on his side. They were a part of him – why were they draining him? They spoke the words 'salvum sua' in his head a thousand – no, a million times – and he began to wonder what they were saying. He was supposed to know what they were saying, he used to but now… now he couldn't remember and he didn't know why.

At 6:45am, the police and the ambulance were called to the intersection where a bleeding and charred man lay. The remains were identified as David Ridge, the owner of a department store in town. No-one had seen what happened to him but the witnesses who came forward said they could hear him screaming for hours through the dawn, from miles and miles away.


End file.
